Chapter 651: Heavy Losses

At exactly eight a. m., the battlefield situation had already become feverishly intense.

Yingguo side:

Reputation sank.

Counterattack was heavily damaged, speed dropping to eighteen knots.

Centurion was heavily damaged, withdrew from the battle line.

King George V was hit by four shells, speed dropping to nineteen knots.

Revenge, Ramillis, Royal Oak, Monarch, Conqueror and the other warships, eight ships in all, remained in battle.

Lanfang side:

Huaihe was hit by seven shells, speed dropping to twenty knots, and two Main Gun turrets were disabled.

Zhujiang was hit by five shells, speed dropping to twenty‑three knots, and one Main Gun turret was disabled.

Zhang Zhen stood on the shattered bridge, watching on the radar screen those Yingguo warships still approaching.

Eight ships.

Another eight.

How long could Huaihe hold out? He didn't know. But he knew they had to keep going.

"General," the adjutant came over, "Zhujiang sent a signal asking whether we need cover for retreat."

Zhang Zhen shook his head.

"Reply: Huaihe and Zhujiang will advance and retreat together."

He walked to the porthole and looked toward the southeast.

There, the sea surface was still empty.

But he was waiting.

Waiting for those two ships.

Waiting for those two flags.

Waiting for the moment that would turn everything.

At eight twenty a. m., about fifty nautical miles from the battlefield.

Bismarck raced southeast at thirty knots. The hull shivered—not from damage, but the kind of throbbing that comes from the Keel deep within when sprinting at full speed, making the blood boil.

She Er stood on the bridge, holding a telescope toward the front. There was still nothing, but he knew that in another forty minutes the battlefield would be visible.

"General," the radar officer reported, "about forty‑five nautical miles ahead, a large number of ship signals detected. At least fifteen vessels. They are engaged in combat."

She Er's hand paused on the telescope.

Fifteen ships.

That was all of Yingguo's main force.

Huaihe and Zhujiang were exchanging fire with the fifteen Yingguo warships.

"Full speed," She Er said, "faster."

The engine room replied, "General, that's already the limit. Going faster will make the boiler explode."

She Er was silent for a second.

"Then let it explode," She Er said, "if it blows, it's on me."

The speaking tube was quiet for a second.

Then replied, "Yes."

Bismarck's speed climbed from thirty knots—thirty point two, thirty point five, thirty point eight.

The hull's shudder grew more violent, the porthole glass emitting a sharp resonant sound, as if it could shatter at any moment.

But it kept running.

Tirpitz followed closely behind.

She Er stood at the window, watching the sea ahead drawing ever nearer.

"It's getting close, General Zhang," General Zhang thought.

Hold on a little longer.

We'll be there soon.

At eight a. m. sharp, the sun had fully risen.

The surface of the Arabian Sea was dyed a dazzling gold‑red, but it was not the hue of dawn—it was the color of flame, of blood, of steel burning.

Huaihe's bridge was now unrecognizable.

Three 356‑mm shells successively struck the once‑sturdy structure. The first blew the starboard observation platform away, the second tipped the chart table, and the third pierced straight through the rear wall of the bridge, exploding inside. Two staff officers were killed on the spot, three operators were gravely wounded, their blood mixing with oil and flowing across the deck.

Zhang Zhen stood at the shattered porthole, a wound on his forehead still oozing blood, but he could not wipe it away. His left hand pressed against the frame, his right hand raised a telescope, staring fixedly at the distant Yingguo warships still firing.

Eight ships.

After two hours of fighting, the Yingguo lost one ship, heavily damaged two, but eight remained.

"Report damage!" his voice was hoarse, yet steady.

The damage officer's voice came through the speaking tube, trembling with suppressed fear: "General, severe flooding on the port side! Four compartments are flooded, the bilge pumps are at full speed, yet the inflow still exceeds the outflow! Speed... speed has already dropped to twenty knots!"

"Main Gun status!"

"Turret A can still fire, Turret B's loading mechanism is damaged, loading speed halved! Turrets C and D... completely disabled!"

Of the four Main Gun turrets, only one and a half remain functional.

Zhang Zhen clenched his teeth.

"Turret A continue firing, target King George V. Turret B load high‑explosive shells, hit those destroyers, keep them away!"

"Yes!"

The speaker in the megaphone transmitted the Artillery Chief's voice: "A turret received! Target King George V, armor‑piercing Shells loaded—fire!"

The only remaining Main Gun on Huai River erupted in flame again. Two 380‑mm Shells whistled toward the Yingguo flagship.

Forty seconds later, the observer reported: "Hit! King George V's stern struck by Shell!"

Zhang Zhen saw through the telescope that the Yingguo flagship's stern erupted in a fireball. Its speed had dropped to eighteen knots, and it was slowly pulling away from the battle line.

Well shot.

But at what cost?

He turned to the silent officers on the bridge. The Navigation Officer lay in a pool of blood, already breathless. The Communications Officer had bandages around his head, yet kept at his duties. Three young operators had faces covered in ash and tears, but no one spoke.

No one wept.

Because there was no time to weep.

Meanwhile, on Pearl River, Zhou Zhen guo was frantically commanding his warship.

Pearl River's condition was somewhat better than Huai River's, but still limited. Five hits, one Main Gun turret disabled, speed reduced to twenty‑three knots. Yet it kept firing, still dashing through the rain of Shells at twenty‑eight knots, like a wounded beast growing more ferocious.

"Hard‑to‑starboard! Speed twenty‑eight knots!" Zhou Zhen guo roared, "Don't let those two battleships flank us!"

Pearl River traced a massive arc on the sea, narrowly evading the crossfire of Revenge and Ramillis. A Shell landed fifty meters off the starboard side, a column of water surging like a waterfall onto the deck.

"Main Gun ready!" Zhou Zhen guo pointed at the approaching target on the radar screen, "Target—Monarch! Concentrate fire!"

Pearl River's three remaining Main Guns swiveled simultaneously. The fire‑control radar locked onto the target, and the gunner loaded armor‑piercing Shells.

Fire!

Six Shells burst from the barrel.

Forty seconds later, the observer's voice came: "Two hits! Monarch's hull struck! Upper structures ablaze!"

Zhou Zhen guo raised his telescope. The Yingguo battleship was smoking, its speed dropping from twenty‑one knots to eighteen knots. It began to turn, trying to leave the battlefield.

"Don't let it get away!" Zhou Zhen guo roared, "Keep firing!"

But at that moment, the lookout's voice changed: "Captain! Port! Two Yingguo battleship‑cruisers are closing! It's Counterattack—and no, Counterattack is heavily damaged—that's… that's Conqueror!"

Zhou Zhen guo turned to port.

Two high‑speed warships were sprinting at full throttle, their smokestacks belching black smoke. The lead one was Counterattack—still firing despite its bow aflame and speed reduced to eighteen knots, yet it kept shooting. The following one was Conqueror, intact, racing in at twenty‑six knots to flank.

"Hard‑to‑port!" Zhou Zhen guo roared, "Main Gun, swing to port! Fire Conqueror first!"

Pearl River twisted wildly on the sea. Its three Main Gun turrets turned slowly, barrels pointing at the approaching Conqueror.

Distance 18,000 meters.

Fire!

Six Shells shot from the barrel.

Conqueror also opened fire. Its four twin‑mounted 381‑mm Main Guns erupted in flame simultaneously, eight Shells hurling toward Pearl River.

Forty seconds later, both sides scored hits simultaneously.

Conqueror's bow was hit, its forward Main Gun turret blown away, thick smoke billowing.